Sunday, January 3, 2016

I just want to go watch
Twin Peaks
with my very own 
Twin Peaks
drooping sideways over 
my ribs.
I would scrunch my neck up 
and peer down alongside my nose
to see Agent D.C. record 
some funnymemos to Diane.
I could be horizontal
amid flannel sheets with flannel pants
and hey why not a flannel shirt.
But I have not written a poem yet today.
So this blob must instead blog. 

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